


Deerly Beloved

by likelyvalentine (nokkakona)



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Backstory Galore, F/M, Like I've Written 70k Words And They Kissed Once In A Dream, Like Way Slow, Oh Spoilers?, Self Indulgent Garbage, Slow Burn, Trans Dragonborn, Trans Marcurio, Vampirism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 19:49:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15692214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nokkakona/pseuds/likelyvalentine
Summary: Marcurio wants out of Riften. He never expected that his salvation would come in the form of a Bosmer thief with a unique trait: a mark of the blessing of Y'ffre. Of course, he has to convince her to take him along first, a tall order when she's literally the most asocial person on the planet. Oh, and she fights dragons for a living. What could possibly go wrong?Marcurio/F!DB. Both characters are written as trans.





	Deerly Beloved

The elf hurried in just minutes after Marcurio began to hear the rhythm of raindrops against the roof of the Bee & Barb Inn, holding a leatherbound book over her head like a shield and clutching a cloth pack to her chest. Marcurio watched as she shook off the rain, letting damp hair fall over her eyes, and slunk toward Keerava, trying desperately to blend in even as the other patrons, one by one, turned to stare at her. Her voice was too quiet for him to overhear, but Keerava said, "Just broth? Sit down and I'll bring it to you."

She did just that, spreading the abused book on the table, and after drying her hands on the leg of her ill-fitting robes, she began to read. Keerava brought her a bowl and tankard, which she accepted with a flickering smile, looking up only for a moment before quickly averting her gaze back to her book. Whispers began to fill the air in the tavern, and Marcurio watched with distaste as one of the Snow-shods, his eyes fixated on the elf's head, made to stand, but was pulled back down by his companion.

She seemed oblivious to it- or at least like she was trying her very best to ignore it. It made it easier for him to observe her, much like everyone else in the room, though he imagined for much different reasons. Her cheeks were flushed pink from sun, and her hair was damp, curls knotted- it was probably hard to find headwear for someone like her, he noted. The bow at her back, badly concealed under the hood of her robes, had tiny, glittering specks of blood dappling the string. An adventurer and foreigner to be sure- perhaps on her way to the College of Winterhold.

Nervous, too, he noted- the inn was quiet at midday, but every slight sound startled her away from her tome, causing her to cast a flickering eye over the room. At one point her gaze landed on him. He raised an eyebrow, making no attempt to disguise his analysis of her, but she quickly looked away, more embarrassed to have been caught than he was.

He debated standing, abandoning his seat to approach her, but before his mind could even formulate the proper way to say hello, she was gone, her bowl empty on the table, a few septims beside it. The door to the tavern swung shut with a click, and immediately, its patrons erupted in conversation.

"Did you see that?"

"Everyone did, you idiot."

"It had to be fake, right? Something she pulled off a deer out there."

"The poor girl. I bet she gets this everywhere she goes. That's not exactly something she can hide."

"I've read stories of Bosmer like that-"

"Is that what she was?"

Marcurio realised he had been perched forward on the edge of his seat, and with a deep sigh, he relaxed, leaning back against the rough wood of the wall behind him. If she came back, he'd know- no one would be able to resist talking about it should the strange wood elf with the antlers return.


End file.
